


Husk

by SinNotAlone



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Hurt/More Hurt, M/M, digit removal, sexualized mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7172972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinNotAlone/pseuds/SinNotAlone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A punishment befitting a knight.</p><p> <i>The metal is corroded, flaking in places and coated in a fine layer of dust. What was once deep black is now spoiled by splotches of slate and bronze. Part of the cross-guard chipped during that fight, lost somewhere in crimson snow, to be swallowed by the fissure and dissolved in magma. The frayed wires in the hilt are exposed, sagging like the entrails of eviscerated prey. This weapon that had aroused terror in scores of victims is a sad thing now, just macabre decoration. Though the cracked Kyber crystal is still intact, it is useless in its volatility, like its former owner.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Husk

**Author's Note:**

> When the idea of a "Hard Kinks" Tumblr started circulating, I put forth the kink ["Hux cuts off Kylo Ren’s thumbs so he can no longer wield his lightsaber"](http://kegareta.tumblr.com/post/145593349901/hi-there-so-i-was-just-wondering-for-the-hard) as an example of a kink I was leery of putting forward. I foolishly couldn't even wait for the hard kinks Tumblr to open and instead filled my own prompt with this drabble.

The metal is corroded, flaking in places and coated in a fine layer of dust. What was once deep black is now spoiled by splotches of slate and bronze. Part of the cross-guard chipped during that fight, lost somewhere in crimson snow, to be swallowed by the fissure and dissolved in magma. The frayed wires in the hilt are exposed, sagging like the entrails of eviscerated prey. This weapon that had aroused terror in scores of victims is a sad thing now, just macabre decoration. Though the cracked Kyber crystal is still intact, it is useless in its volatility, like its former owner.

Following Kylo’s defeat by the scavenger, Hux had felt compelled to act. Kylo, foolhardy, driven by a petty lust for vengeance, allowed for the obliteration of years of planning and labor, not to mention the wastage of hundreds of First Order personnel, and while Hux had followed Snoke’s command to save Kylo from certain death, he could not pardon him. Executing the man had not been an option. Aside from Hux’s personal entanglement, the Knights of Ren were an important ally that could not be alienated. An act of penance was required.

Hux had waited until he was assured that Kylo would recover, but not a moment longer, to enact his plan. It hadn’t been a request, when Hux demanded the saber from the grimly wounded knight, and the raw gash bisecting his face had pulled tight as he struggled to form words in response. He’d handed it over, head bowed, like tribute from a conquered tribe, though there had been no battle, not between the two of them. And when Hux informed him of the punishment he believed appropriate for the mistake, Kylo did not disagree, didn’t say anything, head so low his chin touched his chest. Kylo knew he deserved it; he had failed.

The saber hangs on the wall of Hux’s chamber like one might hang an icon, just left of the entryway, there to bless or damn each soul who crosses the threshold. If the light is low, which it is more often than not, the metal husk blends in with the dingy grey walls of the warren to which they’d retreated, but even unseen, Kylo can sense its presence. He has to bend his head to pass through the low portal, which creates the impression of a hasty genuflection.

He follows Hux into the room, two steps behind and half a body’s width to the right. Hux used to struggle to keep pace with Kylo’s long legs, knowing full well that it was but one of a multitude of displays of imperium in which Kylo reveled. His stride is no longer the proud gait of a knight; it’s the shuffle of a recently broken animal, unsure how to move with freshly clipped wings. His gaze is trained at his feet, and the floor, like the walls, is made of an ashen packed earth. Little clouds of dust roll in the wake of their steps, and it covers everything, until they themselves have become drab and grey.

The chamber is small, cramped with the meager furnishings, just enough room for a sleeping pallet, a trunk, and a makeshift table, which was formerly an oil drum. The low, domed ceiling gives the impression of a sepulchre, and Kylo finds solace in the slightly claustrophobic feeling it stirs in his breast. Hux reaches to hold one of Kylo’s maimed hands in his own, the loose grip tethering Kylo. They maneuver around the roughly hewn boa-wood trunk to the sleeping pallet, tucked in the corner under the lowest point of the ceiling.

Both crouch upon approach, and Hux releases Kylo’s hand momentarily to lower himself to the pallet. Once situated, he captures it again, drawing Kylo down with him. The pallet is lumpy and narrow, filled with a fiber that pokes through the rough weave of the coverlet, irritating the exposed skin of his neck. In the cool air of the chamber, carved back into a hillside, Kylo shivers, fine hairs standing up, and shifts to wrap himself against the only warmth in the room.

He does not dress like the lord of the Knights of Ren, not anymore. He wears simple clothing, brown leggings and a thin, dun tunic, a frayed cord cinching it in at the waist. It's easy enough to put on. Belts and clasps require too much dexterity, and Hux won’t help him dress, likes watching him fumble instead. The number of layers he previously wore, in an attempt to heighten his broadness to an intimidating degree, are no longer feasible. And gloves, of course, gloves are completely out of the question.

Kylo’s legs stretch to intertwine with Hux’s, and he rests his cheek against the threadbare fabric of the vest he'd managed to salvage from his old uniform. Hux cradles Kylo’s hand in his own, raising it to chest level. He stares, glance shifting from Kylo’s hand to the saber affixed on the wall and back, as if savoring the things he’s broken.

He draws the hand to his mouth, and his humid breath is oppressive against the gnarled pucker of flesh where Kylo’s thumb had previously been. He kisses it, dry lips abrasive against the sensitive flesh, the remaining skin stretched and stitched to cover the pit where the digit once was. The pink of the scar tissue is just starting to fade toward white, though the tight whorl at the center remains a deeper red.

Kylo squirms when he feels the lave of Hux’s tongue, and his other hand twitches in sympathy, a phantom pain where both digits no longer are. He keeps quiet as Hux continues worrying the scar, scraping lightly with his incisors, then soothing it with warm saliva. Hux’s eyes are closed, like he is entranced by his desire to know Kylo’s wound with mouth alone. When he pulls back, the scar glistens in the dimness of the warren, and the slickness feels icy as it dries. It reminds Kylo of the initial pain, the blinding hot and cold, simultaneous and unbearable.

Hux tells Kylo to strip, and he props himself up to watch from hooded eyes, poker faced. Kylo feels self-conscious about the awkward grip he uses to pull loose the cord binding his waist, to draw the hem of his tunic over his head, to shimmy out of the tight leggings. He’s had to relearn the most basic things, with Hux scrutinizing all along the way. Hux had briefly cared for him during his recovery, spooning gruel to his mouth, cautious to fill hollowed-out cheeks, but he soon withdrew his aid, requiring Kylo to develop a new way to use what was left of his hands.

Once Kylo’s finished, Hux turns him toward the foot of the pallet and lays a palm against his shoulder, with an insistent pressure. It's nice, the simple direction, he knows how to be when Hux is like this, his body a marionette for him to manipulate as he pleases. Kylo hunches over, resting his weight on his forearms, forcing his back into an arch. The pallet always leaves abrasions on the delicate ventral side of his arms, but at least braced in this fashion he’s steady in way his palms no longer provide.

Kylo doesn’t need much prep at this point, and he doesn’t want it anyway. A cursory stretch with two slick fingers is all he gets, before he feels the blunt head of Hux’s cock pushing, slippery and hot against his hole. He slowly sinks in to Kylo’s willing body, a fraction of an inch at a time. Kylo’s hole burns in response to the unyielding invasion, but a warm sensation flickers and catches fire in his belly. Kylo relishes this warmth together with the heat of another human being. Once Hux is fully seated inside Kylo, he shifts his hips slightly to the right, reorienting the pair of them, lined up, head on.

Now when Hux fucks Kylo, it’s always from behind, always facing the wall, always admiring that crumbling idol.

**Author's Note:**

> This was obviously influenced by the practice of [yubitsume](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yubitsume).
> 
> Let us be questionable on [Tumblr](http://kegareta.tumblr.com).


End file.
